Rapid Attraction

by E. F. Jacks

  “Remember me? I’m the person your wheels threw mud all over while I was walking on the road.”

  He turns around and I take a step back. He’s young and good-looking.

  The guy stares at the mud speckled all over my jeans. His voice is smooth and deep. “Sorry.” He grimaces. “Are you Pauline?”

  “How do you know my name? Who are you?” A little alarmed, I step farther back.

  “Ellis. I’m the guide sent by River Tours.” He reaches to shake my hand.

  I glance at his hand. “What? I’m sorry, but there’s been some sort of mistake. You see, I specifically asked your boss for a woman.”

  He lowers his hand. “Which I’m obviously not.”

  I size him up. Dark jeans hug his long legs. His blue t-shirt draws attention to his well-developed arms tanned a cinnamon color. Here’s a man whose body is shaped by spending most of his days outdoors. I’ve never known this kind of man before, and wonder what he’ll be like.

  Rafting and the outdoors were Sam’s things. Adventure. It feels strange being less brave than your kid sister. I figure Mom and my birth dad spent so much time raising me carefully that by the time Sam came along they decided to be a little more lenient. As a consequence, Sam was more of a free spirit than me. Then dad was killed and everything fell apart. Mom eventually remarried, and at first I hated our stepfather, despite his kindness toward me, and I envied how Sam had grown fond of him so effortlessly, and he of her. By the time I left for college, I realized Frank wasn’t a bad guy.

  This guy Ellis isn’t anything like Seth. If Seth is hot in a super clean-cut way, with his gleaming blond hair, buffed fingernails, and tailored suits with pricey cufflinks, then Ellis is a man’s man kind of sexy. After Seth’s betrayal, I won’t give most guys a second glance these days. But I can’t stop gawking at Ellis. Growing up in the city, I never saw guys like him. A guy whose body seems as imposing and as sculpted as the mountains in front of me, surrounding me.

  Ellis seems aloof about my staring at him, and is focused on the task at hand. His slim waist bends as he lifts his gear back into the truck bed. He’s going to ditch me. Ditched twice in one day? This can’t be happening.

  “What are you doing?” I shift uncomfortably in my sneakers, which are muddy and wet inside.

  His green-gray eyes focus on my designer sneakers. “Those are all you brought with you? You walked here?”

  “It’s not like they’re stilettos. I took a cab from the airport for most of the way, then I had to walk. You saw me on the road. Flew past me on the road.” I smirk at him. “It’s kind of a long story.”

  “Oh.” Ellis straightens his ball cap, and his short dark hair sticks out. He reaches into the pickup’s bed and digs into one of his bags, removing a pair of hiking boots. “Here.” He holds out the boots to me. They have dried mud on them.

  Our fingers brush as I take them by the laces. His fingers are rough. Not smooth like Seth’s. The boots are clunky in my hands. “What are these for?”

  “Put them on. You’ll slip if you wear sneakers on the raft.”

  “So you’re not ditching me?”

  Ellis shakes his head, then smiles. “Looks like it could rain—that’s why I put my stuff back in my truck. There’s no use standing out here getting all wet.”

  My face heats at the innuendo. Because suddenly I want to. Get wet. With him.

  “I can unload the stuff again when we head out for real,” he says.

  “Sounds good. But how exactly is someone my size supposed to fit in your shoes?” He’s well over six feet tall, and I can’t help but glance at his feet.

  Ellis turns slightly away from me. “They’re not mine.”

  “Oh.” Maybe another tourist left them behind, or maybe they’re an old girlfriend’s. Or they belong to his current girlfriend. I bend and start to change into the boots, when the sky darkens and the air around me feels damper.

  Ellis angles his face down to my level. “Look, if you really are unhappy with the arrangement, I can drive you back.”

  I meet his vivid eyes. From this proximity they’re more green than gray. And beautiful. “To the airport?”

  Ellis nods as he tosses the rest of his gear back into the truck’s bed. He’s so strong my luggage sails into the truck as though it were pieces of cloth.

  Water sprinkles on my skin and hair. Then it starts to pour. Ellis covers the bed with a piece of blue tarp. He gestures to the truck and opens the door for me. His strong, warm hand pressing against my wet skin as he guides me sends a rousing tingle through my body. After a pause, I take the boots with me and accept his help, stepping up with his hand easing me onto the warm seat.

  “What about our luggage outside in the back?” I ask as his fingertips slip from my waist. “Won’t it get wet?”

  “The tarp’s waterproof.”

  “Oh.” I never considered stuff like someone would actually use and need a waterproof tarp. But out here the way of living is different. Harder. He closes the door.

  He gets into the driver’s seat and shuts his door. After a few moments, the truck’s windows steam up and he flicks on the air. I’d expect him to smell of sweat, but he smells clean and woodsy, of something manly that drifts off his skin and surrounds me. Like the outdoors.

  We’re practically sitting butt to butt in the enclosed space. I peek through the raindrop splattered window behind us. Judging from the one raft sticking out of the truck’s bed, we’ll be very close the whole way down the river, too. Come to think of it, I’d only seen one tent in his truck, and of course I hadn’t brought my own. I’d thought the tour company would take care of everything. Then again, I thought I’d be camping out with a woman.

  I finish changing into the boots and tuck my sneakers under the seat. “I guess I’ll leave these in here.”

  When he doesn’t reply, I ask, “Is it okay if I leave my sneakers in your truck?”

  Ellis nods. He clears his throat and shifts his body toward me. “You know, I can still drive you back if you want.”

  “No, it’s okay. I don’t know if you know why I’m here, but, anyway, I’m not supposed to be here, my sister was. Our parents paid for it. I’m taking her place.”

  “Your sister couldn’t make it?” Ellis pushes up the sun visor and rests his arm against the steering wheel.

  “She died,” I answer quietly. Ellis doesn’t need to know how Sam died. He doesn’t need to know that my beautiful, smart teenage sister with a rebellious side died from carbon monoxide poisoning while sitting in our parents’ car in the garage.

  Sam’s death nearly destroyed me. My sister was the almost perfect, all-American girl, and a part of me feels guilty I’m alive. She was set to go to a top college with a full scholarship. Underneath the veneer of Sam’s smarts, beauty and loquacity, and her generous, open smile, lurked a murky depression that even her good looks, intelligence, and popularity couldn’t appease. She’d left each of us a personalized letter. I have yet to see what she wrote to Mom and Frank, since we never exchanged our notes. In my letter, Sam expressed that her outward happiness masked how unhappy she truly felt at her core. She also said she loved me. Three times. I love you too, Sam. I’ll always love you.

  Ellis’s eyes are downcast, and he is silent for a few moments. “I’m sorry.” He lifts his eyes to mine, and for the first time since we met his eyes lighten, and in them I see a connection, a shared sense of grief.

  Some people say they’re sorry out of good manners, but from the spark in Ellis’s eyes, I can tell he can relate and means what he’s said. I wonder what his tragedy is. What’s his story?

  “My sister knew Fiona from the rafting company,” I say.

  “How well do you know her?”

  “I only met her once when she came to a barbeque at my parents’ house. She seemed friendly, and she and Samantha, my sister, seemed to click. She was really more Sam’s friend than mine.”

  “Sam was Fiona’s age?”

  “Sam just finished hi
gh school. Fiona’s already in college.”

  “Oh, right,” he says.

  In such tight proximity, Ellis’s warm presence and masculine scent draw me in. It’s almost unbearable for me to resist the urge to touch him. I have to get my mind off him. “How long do you think it’ll rain?”

  Ellis chuckles, as though he finds my city girl impatience humorous. “It’s hard to say. You can’t exactly tell rain to take a hike. Could be for minutes. Could be hours. Could be for the rest of the day.”

  Vexed by his dismissal of me as a clueless city dweller, I say, “Yeah, well, I think it’s going to stop raining any second now.”

  Ellis’s eyebrow shoots up. “You do?”

  I cross my arms in front of my chest. “Absolutely.”

  As he peers out the window, the rain dissipates outside as the sun untucks from the clouds and a mist settles over the forest like threads of hot breath.

  “Look at that. You must be magical. We could use some of that on this trip.” Ellis smiles at me, one side of his mouth lifting higher than the other, and my throat squeezes as I search for a witty reply.

  I stay quiet, driven to silence by my need to overanalyze every small thing I want to say before I speak. Sam said my quietness is my quirkiest attribute. She always told me how funny I am. So why hadn’t I said something amusing back to Ellis?

  The truth is Sam was the gorgeous, athletic, witty sibling in our family. Once they know the truth, guys aren’t interested in me for more than one night, for which they’ll have something to brag to their friends about. Outgoing, sweet girls like Sam, caught decent, hot guys like Ellis forever. Not girls like me.

  Ellis seems to take my silence as further reluctance to go through with the trip. “I can still take you back.” I slide a look at him, and the corners of his mouth lift up.

  Suddenly I want nothing more than to take the trip. And, besides, he’s being paid to take care of me. Why wouldn’t he want me to go through with the journey? “I’m definitely staying. Until we reach the end.”

  Beyond the thick forest outside the windshield, the river courses in one smooth motion, shining blue under the sun.

  We exit the pickup, and Ellis turns to me. “It’s official. Should we shake on it?”

  “What do you mean?” I try my best to arrange my damp hair in some sort of a ponytail.

  “Shake hands—we never got the chance to shake hands when we met.” Ellis’s hand strokes by mine as he reaches out to shake.

  I entwine my fingers in his large, warm, and muscular hand. We shake, and he holds on for a moment longer than necessary. Ellis’s hand is so much rougher than Seth’s, and bigger and tanned. Heat rises from my chest to my face. I can only imagine how flushed my cheeks are, and his eyes linger on me, his lips tugging up into a smile that lights up his entire face. He’s noticed I’m blushing. He leans forward, and for a second I think about kissing him, then I say, “What about the food?”

  Ellis pulls back and looks at me as though I’m a defective piece of machinery. He releases my hand.

  “Food for the trip,” I say. “We’ll be gone for seven days.”

  “Right, a week. But that’s if we stay on target.”

  “I know all of that. So what will we be eating? I didn’t bring anything. I didn’t think I would—”

  “Relax.” Ellis holds out his hand to stop my breathless speech. “I brought everything we need with me, including what we need to cook with. That’s my job.”

  Embarrassment shoots hot pins through my face. “Of course.”

  “And we might do a little hunting.”

  “Did I mention I’m a vegetarian?”

  He looks at me but doesn’t say anything.

  “So, when do we get going?” I ask.

  Ellis’s eyes gradually meet mine again. “You sure you want to go through with this?” He smolders with arrogance, and I find it both infuriating and hot.

  I cock my hip. “Why wouldn’t I be sure if I already said I wanted to?”

  Ellis looks me over as if he’s already judged me. “You know, you won’t be able to update your Facebook page, or whatever you’re into, once we’re out there. It can get pretty quiet. We could go days without running into other people, or we might not see anyone else the entire way. This kind of trip is not for everyone.” A moment goes by. He lowers his voice. “There are no bathrooms.”

  Nowhere to pee. That’s something I hadn’t thought of. But the thought of not completing Sam’s journey brings a chill to my hands. Who does this guy think he is anyway? Why does he care so much about me going on this trip? He can’t be much older than me, and he’s treating me as though I’m younger than Sam. I should be the one questioning him, not the other way around. As far as restrooms, I’ll just use the woods when I need to. How hard could it be? “You assume a lot. I’ll be just fine using the woods, thank you very much.”

  Ellis’s eyes widen and his lips curl up in amusement.

  I smooth my shirt and take a breath. “When do we leave?”

  He swipes his thumb across his chin, considering my answer. “We’ll leave now, so we’ll get to the first campsite before dark.” His arrogance seems slightly deflated. “I hope you brought bug repellent. It can get pretty bad out here once the wind settles down.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Though I haven’t packed bug spray. “What about those things—what are they called—wetsuits?”

  “I didn’t bring any. Sorry.” Ellis steps around me to get to the truck’s rear.

  Just how unprepared is he? “Wait a minute.”

  He removes the tarp and folds it inside the bed, then he pulls out my luggage and his gear, setting the bags by our feet. It’s as though he didn’t hear me, or he’s ignoring me.

  I peer down at my—his—hiking boots and wiggle my toes. They’re too small to be his. They’re a woman’s shoes. But whose? “You’re leaving your truck parked out here?”

  “A friend of mine’s going to get dropped off and drive it back into town for me.”

  Is his friend the woman whose hiking boots I’m wearing? “Do you live in town?”

  “Sort of.” Ellis removes the yellow raft from the truck’s bed.

  “What’s that mean, you sort of live in town?”

  His back is to me as he drags the raft down to the water’s edge, securing it with a rope around a nearby tree. It moves in the water but doesn’t drift away as he loads our gear into it.

  He returns to where I stand swatting gnats from my eyes. There’s less wind, and he’s right about the bugs. Feeling useless just waiting around, I help him bring the remaining bags over to the raft. Mine are heavier than his. I feel a bit guilty, and help him more and more. “You never answered my question about where you live.”

  Instead of thanking me for my help, Ellis says, “You don’t have to do anything, you know. You’re paying me to take care of everything for you.”

  Coming from another guy, I would find his words gallant, although spoken by him they sting like a criticism. I can see he doesn’t plan to respond to my question, but I’m sure I’ll get an answer out of him at some point.

  He may not want my help, but I’m going to give it to him anyway. I settle on saying, “I’d like to help out as much as I can,” as he takes the bags out from under my grip.

  Does he expect me to take a turn paddling, or is he going to get us down the entire river by himself? “I can help paddle, too. Down the river, I mean.” Silence stretches between us as water laps at the yellow raft.

  “We’ll see.” Ellis sighs as he finishes arranging our gear and bags inside the raft. He patiently straps everything down.

  I watch him work. He’s taking forever. “Why are you tying our stuff like that? I mean, why bother?”

  He glances up at me. “We bother now so our gear won’t fall out if the raft flips over later.” His grin is cocky.

  My eyes strain from enlarging as my head and ears pound with blood. “That can happen?” I don’t even care about his conceited g
rin. All I can hear is raft flips over.

  Ellis grins over at me. “You bet.” And goes back to work.

  I slide a look at a second blue paddle I see he’s brought with him. “Will I be helping to paddle?”

  “Like I said, Pauline, we’ll see. I’ll decide once we’re out there.” He speaks as though he’s already decided something unfavorable about my skills. And about me. “Let’s get some things out of the way first. The most important being that the raft might flip over.”

  Again, the emphasis on this huge, yellow inflatable thing flipping over. And it looks heavy. How will we ever roll it back over if it flips? Will I have to help? Is he trying to scare me into bolting before I even begin the trip? I can see him doing that. That way, he probably still gets paid and doesn’t have to deal with me.

  He studies me with such care I feel like he’s got a spotlight on me. “If the raft flips over, or tacos— ”

  “Taco?” I wait for him to catch my eye and smile to let me know he’s kidding. When he doesn’t I say again, “Tacos?”

  Ellis sighs. “Taco is what happens when the raft folds. You know, like a taco? Anyway, if you fall out, try to climb on top. Got that? I’ll do the rest.”

  Is he certain it will flip over? I look away from him and mumble among other, more colorful phrases, “Yes, sir.” I wait a moment, then say, “It would have been good if you remembered to pack wetsuits.”

  He flashes me a smile with his healthy white teeth but doesn’t say anything. Arrogant jerk. A wetsuit would look ridiculous on me anyway.

  When everything’s packed into the raft in perfect order, Ellis removes a pair of sandals from his bag and slips them on.

  I point at his feet. “Sandals?”

  “You’ll see. You’ll wish you had a pair, too, once we get out on the water.”